


See Me As I Am

by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo/pseuds/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I can look however you want me to look, George. But what I really want is for you to see me as I am. I'm not that baby boy any more."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	See Me As I Am

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to view all):** het!Harry, classical music * club!sex, crossgen, handjobs, semen, stripping, light bondage, oral sex, table!sex, rimming, anal fingering, anal penetration.*  
>  **A/N:** Written for the [](http://hp-porninthesun.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_porninthesun**](http://hp-porninthesun.livejournal.com/) fest, which was brilliantly run by [](http://luvscharlie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://luvscharlie.livejournal.com/)**luvscharlie** as usual. Huge grateful hugs and thanks to emansil_08, my beta and sex scene sorter.  
>  **Recipient:** [](http://aigooism.livejournal.com/profile)[**aigooism**](http://aigooism.livejournal.com/)  
> 

See Me As I Am

Once upon a time there was a boy who lived. That meant that a lot of other people lived, too, although there were some who died nonetheless. This boy became an orphan on the night he lived and, when he was a young man and a hero, he found himself godfather to another orphaned boy. He took that baby in his arms and looked into his small, sleeping face. The face looked like the faces of the baby's parents. They had been the hero's friends.

The baby had his mother's hair: a delicate lilac colour which washed itself a shade more blue with every snuffly breath. When the young man looked at the baby it made him miss his friends and he began to cry. That made the baby cry, too.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Harry, give him here," Molly said. "George, pass me baby Teddy, would you? Ron, dear, perhaps you could take Harry out for a little fly or something. A bit of fresh air and a change of scene."

George was very sad in those days, too. He didn't really want to touch anybody, let alone a bawling baby. He didn't want to argue with his mother again that morning, though, so he twisted round on the sofa and grabbed it under the armpits. He lifted it up, out of Harry's limp grip. As he stood, he held the baby at arm's length, feeling awkward; its face didn't remind George of Tonks or Professor Lupin, it just looked like a red, wet mess.

When he walked across the room to his mother, the jogging movement made Teddy hiccup. That stopped him crying, making him laugh at himself instead. The laughter caused small, multi-coloured swirls to shoot across his soggy cheeks. George looked at the dancing patterns and, in spite of himself, he smiled. It was the first time he had smiled in weeks.

"George, love, are you going to pass him over here or are you going to stare at him all morning?"

"He's happy enough," George muttered. "I think I'm doing a pretty good job, actually, Mum. You get on with the baking."

"You are doing pretty well," his mother conceded. "Just hold him a little closer to your body."

George sighed. "Stop fussing." That was something he had been wanting to say to her for days; he could say it, because it didn't matter so very much now. He was a bit worried that the baby might smell. They did sometimes, that's what he remembered about them from when he was a child. Babies stank of sick and nappies. He drew the warm bundle towards him. He sniffed. It smelled of soap and butter and something else sweet.

"Put an arm under his bottom. You're not supporting his head."

"Give me a chance, woman." He adjusted his hold. "How's that?"

"Not bad, not bad at all. In fact, it suits you, George. How do you feel?"

"All right." He stood and looked into Teddy's face. The baby was drifting back to sleep and gentle golden shapes like clouds drifted down his nose. His eyebrows were getting paler and paler, almost white.

Then George admitted it: "Bit nervous, actually, Mum. I don't want to drop it."

"Him. He's not an it. And you don't look like you're going to, that looks like a pretty secure hold to me. Just try and relax or he'll pick up your tension. Why don't you sit down? There. That's lovely, I can get on with making with scones. I might even manage a batch of jam tarts at this rate."

"Ok. I'll handle the baby. You make me jam tarts." They were George's favourites. He shuffled to the sofa and sat back down, slowly.

"Don't worry so much. Babies bounce."

George chuckled. "That what happened to Ron? You got a bit too casual about it all and dropped him on his head a few times?" He relaxed back against the cushions. Teddy squirmed slightly, then settled. The smell of him drifted up to George and it was nice. "Have we got any lemon curd? That's always nice in tarts. I saw some blackcurrant jam in the cupboard this morning."

"You look very settled there. Would you like me to bring you over a cup of tea?"

"Are you mad woman, what if I spill hot tea on the baby?"

"You won't. I never did. Would you like the newspaper?"

"I'm fine." He felt good actually. Teddy's warm, solid weight was comforting. Teddy's hair was turning as white as his eyebrows now. He was such a sweet little freak. George's arm was starting to ache a bit, though. Slowly and carefully, scared of waking him, George moved Teddy upright and pulled him to his chest. His little nose was pressed against the cotton shirt at George's shoulder. George watched him. He seemed to be breathing alright.

"You're doing a great job there, George. You look like you were made for it. Give it a few years and the right woman and you'll make a wonderful father."

George closed his eyes and concentrated on the smell and breathing sounds coming from Teddy. He knew already that a different future was ahead of him, but he had no intention of disappointing his mother with that news just then.

*X*

When Teddy was eight years old, George gave him a copy of _Pippi Longstocking_ for his birthday. Teddy had never been too impressed by the books he had been made to read at school. Mrs Green hung her washing on the line, a cat got lost, some treasure got found, the blue pirate and the birthday jelly and the running dogs all sat heavily on the printed pages. In _Pippi Longstocking_ , though, he found a friend. He was caught by her adventures, which he sat and reread at his grandmother's kitchen table.

Andromeda was getting on in years by then and Teddy was a lively boy who wore her out. Then she would snap at him and that would make her feel terrible.

"He's always getting told off for just being a normal little boy," she said to Molly.

George knew what that was like. He suggested taking him after school on Mondays and Thursdays. To start with, he left Verity to manage the shop for those afternoons, but it soon became clear that Teddy loved Wheezes, so George just collected him and then got back behind the counter. It was a dream come true for a little boy – unlimited exploration of a joke shop – and, although there was a lot of trouble there for him to get into, somehow he never did.

George gave him _Pippi in the South Seas_ a couple of months later. Teddy's hair colour changed to red like Pippi's and it stayed like that for over a year, the first time he had stuck with one colour for more than a few hours.

Then, when Teddy was nine, Andromeda died and his hair was black for years.

*X*

When Teddy was eleven, George gave him _The Hobbit_ for Christmas. By the time he came home from school for the Easter holidays, Teddy had created a potion for making feet hairy. It was a best seller and George gave him a leather bound box set of _The Lord of the Rings_ to thank him. Teddy spent most of his days that summer, and many summer after that, in George's product development lab on the top floor of the shop.

George made him leave the lab at lunchtime, wash his hands properly and eat something. This meant that George had to do the same, which made his life safer and healthier. His vomiting bouts and the uncontrolled explosions which worried his family so much, became limited to term time.

After they had eaten, Teddy would drift out of George's kitchen and towards his bookshelves in the sitting room. George always lent him whatever caught his eye. Teddy soon worked his way through the Sherlock Holmes stories, then most of Dickens, _North and South_ , _Silas Marner_ , _Brideshead Revisited_ , _Wuthering Heights_ and was onto Lawrence and Isherwood before George had stopped to wonder whether they weren't a bit too racy for a boy in his early teens.

*X*

By the time Teddy left school, George had moved out of the flat above the shop. London was too noisy for him overnight, Knockturn Alley had got livelier over the years, the Diagon Alley businesses had begun to stay open later, fast food places and bars had opened up in competition with The Leaky Cauldron. George was much more comfortable in a quiet cottage in a quiet town.

Teddy was young, though, and London was exactly where he wanted to be. He wanted to move out of The Burrow and get a place of his own and the flat was now empty. George would have given him a full time job, but Teddy decided to study some more, so he only worked weekends. He studied Muggle chemistry and imported his new knowledge into product development. Arthur was as proud and pleased as a peacock.

"Maybe you'll even find a nice Muggle girl," he enthused. "We could end up with a proper mixed marriage on our hands."

"There aren't many girls doing chemistry, Uncle Arthur," Teddy said and left it at that.

One afternoon, as George was finessing his new Feathered Forehead Frooties, a strange noise drifted through the wall from the flat.

"What are you listening to this shit for?" he asked as he blundered into the sitting room. "Bloody classical music? I thought my Aunt Muriel had invaded us."

Teddy was lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, hands behind his head, bare feet dangling off the arm. He looked blissed out.

"It's not shit," he said. "It's Handel. You've got no soul."

"It's like the electric guitar had never been invented," George grumbled. "I'm trying to work next door."

Teddy pulled himself to sitting and asked George if he'd like a cup of tea. "Sit down for a minute and listen to it. Give it a chance."

With a grumpy eye roll. George accepted. They sat companionably, side by side, and sipped tea for a couple of tracks.

"This one's about fireworks!" Teddy said suddenly. "Can you hear them? He sort of makes you see them, doesn't he?"

"Sort of," George conceded. "Haven't you got any Wyrd Sisters?"

"Nobody listens to them any more. There! See? Fireworks."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"You know what it makes me think of?"

"That we need to check the expiry dates on the wet start indoor fireworks in the top store cupboard?" George asked.

"No!" Teddy sighed and leaned back. "No, it reminds me of that party at the start of Lord of the Rings. The first book. Merry and Pippin."

George laughed. "Then Gandalf gives them a bollocking!" They sat quietly and The Water Music began. "Did I ever tell you about my old Headmaster? He looked a bit like Gandalf."

"Albus Dumbledore, right? I've seen pictures."

"Of course you have. In History of Magic texts no doubt. Look, this has been pleasant, and thanks for the tea, but I was in the middle of something. I'd better get back. It's important work, you know, enabling children to deform each other through candy."

"Very important."

"And don't play your music so loud again, unless it's something decent with drum solos."

"You liked it! Admit it!" Teddy shouted after him as George left the room. Then he rolled over to press his face into the place where George had been sitting.

*X*

At the end of a long Saturday, Verity suggested they all go out to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Not tonight," George said.

"Just a couple of drinks. It'll do you good," Verity argued. "It's Saturday night. You can't just run away and hole up in that miserable little cottage of yours."

"It's not miserable. Actually it's very cosy."

"Come on, everyone's going. Young Teddy here is getting the first round in."

"Hasn't a young man like you got better things to do on a Saturday night than hang out with a bunch of old farts like us?" He shook his head. "Not tonight, Verity."

Teddy suddenly remembered an experiment he was supposed to be writing up.

As it happened, George didn't return immediately to his cosy cottage that night. He didn't hate everything about the louder, brasher, bigger Knockturn Alley. There was at least one place there where he was very happy to be: The Tool Shed.

His mother was still hoping that he would find a nice young (or these days not so young) woman and start a family with her. Even after all these years, somehow he hadn't managed to find the right time to explain to her why that wasn't going to happen. And if his mother didn't know how he was – then how could he tell anyone else?

So, his sexual encounters were necessarily anonymous and brief. The Tool Shed had made his life so much easier, being full of wizards who felt the same way as he did.

The club was busy, as usual. The music was throbbing and the lights were bright on the dance floor, dark in the corners. He jostled with the other men at the bar and bought himself a drink. Then he looked round to find someone else to buy a drink for. He caught a tanned man with short, chestnut hair looking over at him. George smiled back, but the brunet didn't come over. A young black guy did, though. He sidled up to George and sat on a bar stool, leaning so that his long thigh pressed against George's arm.

"What are you drinking?" George asked him.

His name was Otis. He was good looking, and he danced well, but they didn't really have anything to talk about. So, instead of inviting him back to the cottage, George pulled him into one of the under-lit alcoves.

Otis' skin was soft and warm, firm and young. George pushed his hands up the back of his T-shirt to feel it. Otis rubbed his groin against George's hip. George tried to kiss him, but the young man moved his head sharply to the side, so he had to content himself with sucking his salty neck instead.

Otis made it clear that he didn't want conversation or pleasantries, no snogging or hugging; the only part of George he was interested in was his cock. He unfastened George's trousers unceremoniously and shoved him back against the wall. His palm splayed across George's belly, pinning him in place.

George gazed out at the bright lights of the club, watching with unfocussed eyes the patterns made by the dancing bodies. A strong hand pulled out his cock and began tugging and twisting. George gasped and bucked his hips. Then he did the decent thing, and unzipped Otis' jeans.

Otis was nearly hard. George slid his other hand down, through wiry hair and hot flesh, to cup his balls. He stretched back a finger to press into his perineum while his grip on Otis' cock tightened and he squeezed it to full hardness. The movements were automatic, practiced. The increasingly aroused sensation of his own cock was familiar, too. Their shared rhythm was steady – firm pulls upwards. They sped up gradually, each spurred by the movements of the other. Their chests heaved to pull in enough breath, knocking against each other on each inhale. Hot breath panted onto George's neck. The solid column of prick in his hand heated and became stickier. Smells rose. The little grunts and moans they both made, mingled. Otis' hand which was still across George's belly became a clutching claw. His pelvis rocked and jerked. Then the grip on George's cock tightened and they let their orgasms flow through them at the same time.

With an intoxicated stumble, Otis stepped back, wiping the back of his hand on George's trousers, tucking himself away and zipping up. Then he stepped backwards, turned, and disappeared back into the bright lights and music.

George watched him, allowing himself some minutes supported by the wall, getting his breathing steady again. He lifted his hands to his face and sucked in the scent on them. He couldn't see the lad any more. He had disappeared into the shapes of the bodies, into the crowd of men's bodies which littered George's memories, all the indistinct, merging encounters of his past. He licked at the drying come on his hand. It was fresh, light and salty – the ejaculate of a young, healthy man. George had tasted much worse than that. The bad taste in his mouth had nothing to do with Otis' spunk.

*X*

Some Sundays George came into work late. Overnight guests often needed to be breakfasted and kissed goodbye. After a night alone, though, he would be in the store just after opening-up time. Sundays were always slow. The Wizarding community was a traditional one and many of them disapproved of shopping on the Day of Rest.

Teddy was in, sitting behind the counter, looking bored. Verity had given herself the more interesting task of stock-taking; she was standing in the window with a clipboard, counting _Laughinggas Lemondrops_. George greeted them both. Teddy looked up at him, and then away, without answering.

For the next couple of hours, George kept catching Teddy looking over at him, and then swiftly away. It was un-nerving. He wouldn't talk to George, or even make eye contact with him. There were only two customers to break the tension – and one of those only wanted directions to the Owl Post Office.

Eventually, George announced, "There's nothing going on here! Come on, Teddy, we might as well have a tea break. Verity's got this covered."

Teddy looked startled. Then, to George's surprise, he jumped enthusiastically off his stool and lead the way up to the staff room.

"OK," George said, putting a mug of tea down in front of Teddy. "What have I done? Why are you in a mood with me?"

"I'm not."

"Is it because I wouldn't go to the pub yesterday?"

"No. It's just a bit weird." Teddy shook his head. "I'm having to get used to something." He swallowed.

"Has something happened?" George sat down on the opposite side of the table and planted his elbows on it.

Suddenly, Teddy raised his face and looked straight into George's. Only the unsteady colouring of his irises gave away any nervousness, and only someone who knew him as well as George did would have recognised those little pastel wisps for what they meant. "I saw you last night," Teddy said.

"What?"

"At the Toolshed."

George felt the blood leave his face, then return in a crimson burn. His stomach flipped. "What? But --" He hated the idea that his young apprentice might know about any of the nasty things he got up to in that club. He hated the idea that Teddy had been there at all. "I didn't see you!"

"You did," Teddy said softly. He looked right at George as he darkened his hair and his eyebrows. "But I do have a certain advantage ..." He became the tanned young man with the short chestnut hair who had been looking at George the night before.

"Oh!" George gasped. He swallowed to wet his throat so that he could speak. "You shouldn't be going into places like that. It could be dangerous. You don't know what goes on there."

"Of course I do!" Teddy shed his disguise, putting his own features back on.

"You think you do. You're too young to understand --"

"I'm older than that kid you dragged off to the back of the club last night!"

"No. Anyway that's different. He was old enough. What exactly did you see?" George rubbed absently at the scarred place which had once been his ear.

"More than I wanted to." Teddy sighed. "I was trying not to look. Yes, he _was_ old enough, that's not what I'm saying. Still younger than me, though."

"What were you even doing in there, Teddy?" George tried remember back to the brunet's movements the night before. "You didn't ...? You weren't with ...? I mean, did you meet someone?" He felt sick. "People there, they want to do things. Sometimes those things are a bit ..."

"I've been before," Teddy said. "I usually go to Muggle places, though. There are web sites, too. I've met up with Muggles through them sometimes."

George looked blank.

"Computer," Teddy said.

"I know what a web site is, Teddy."

"You look confused."

"I don't understand why. Why you'd go somewhere like that."

"The same reason as you, George." Teddy paused, but the reaction he was waiting for never came, so he spelt it out. "I'm gay."

"You're far too young to know something like that about yourself," George said, trying to convince himself. He couldn't help worrying about how vulnerable being gay made Teddy. Men would want to do unspeakable things to his boy. Women would have been so much safer. He kept thinking about the moment when he had held baby Teddy in his mother's kitchen- the tiny fingers and the little swirls of colour on the chubby cheeks. George just wanted to protect that little orphan, to keep him away from filthy old men like himself.

Teddy exhaled an exasperated breath. "I've known forever! How old were you when you realised?"

"I don't know." George chewed his lips. "I don't know."

"Only I was hoping this was a recent revelation, because otherwise it makes no sense why you didn't tell anyone."

"The same reasons that nobody knows about you."

Teddy laughed. "People know I'm gay! It's not a secret. My friends all know. Harry knows."

"But you didn't tell me?" George was hurt.

"Don't try to pull that one. You didn't tell me, either!" Teddy took a breath and calmed a little. "I didn't want to disappoint you." The two of them looked into their cups of tea for a while. "I didn't know it was a possibility," Teddy said suddenly. George waited, to see if Teddy was going to fill him in on the train of thought which had lead him to those words, so that George could make sense of them. Instead Teddy said. "It changes things." Then he added, almost immediately, "Do you remember when I was a kid and my hair went ginger?"

George found himself smiling fondly. "Like Pippi," he said.

"No," said Teddy. "That's what everyone thought and I let them think that. Not like Pippi Longstocking. It was you I wanted to be like."

"I'm flattered."

"But it was more than that. More than hero-worship. Not long after that I knew exactly what it was."

"I don't understand," said George.

"You were my first crush, my first love, George. It never occurred to me that you might be gay. I thought it was an impossible, doomed infatuation. I learned to live with that. But now I know ..."

"You need to find someone special, someone nice – your own age. You won't meet anyone like that in those grimy clubs."

Teddy clenched his fists. "I never changed the way I feel about you, George. I never lost that love. Don't you get it?"

"Teddy, you're a young boy --"

"No, I'm not! I'm an adult. Look at me, George! Please!"

"I know what you look like, Teddy. I don't really understand what you're saying. You're too young to really know what you're saying."

Teddy leant back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "Right," he said. His hair and skin began to darken. "Maybe it would be easier for you if I looked like this."

"I wanted to be that lad last night, with you in that corner." Teddy had transformed himself back into the chestnut-haired young man George had noticed the night before.

George's head flooded with images of flesh and cock and come. He rubbed his eyes as though that would make them go away.

"But I want more than that," Teddy said. "I thought I had a silly, unrequite-able crush because I thought you were straight, but now I know different and I can't bear it. I want you to be mine." There was a silence, during which Teddy watched George and George kept his hands over his face. "Look at me please," Teddy said.

"But that's not you."

Teddy swallowed. Then he said, "I can look however you want me to look, George. But what I really want is for you to see me as I am. I'm not that baby boy any more."

"But you are! I held you, Teddy. You dribbled on my neck. How could you be a grown-up already? You're that scabby-knee-ed ginger kid climbing through my crates, you're a chubby toddler dripping avocado ice cream all over the floor at Fortescue's. You _can't_ be ready to have sex. I _can't_ accept that my little hairy-toed hobbit is that old already."

Teddy laughed. Surprised, George looked up at him. He was wearing his own face again, which was a relief.

"Well, I've learned how to handle an ice cream nowadays, but get enough pints in me and I can't promise not to dribble on your neck again." Teddy grinned. "Look, try me out. Stop pulling that face. I meant a date. One proper, grown-ups' date."

"It'll be just like going out for a drink with you. It won't feel like a date."

"Don't be grumpy. I'll make sure it's romantic."

George turned away. "Romantic? I don't think I can cope with romantic."

"Just give it a chance! Tomorrow night. OK?"

"Oh, all right. But it won't work." George stood and started to walk towards the stairs down to the shop. "No bloody classical music," he muttered.

"You like it really!" Teddy yelled after him.

 _Romantic?_ George asked himself. How was he going to manage that? He'd never been _romantic_ with anyone. He'd never had the chance.

*X*

Teddy spent his Monday morning lecture mentally choosing and discarding outfits. He needed to look mature and desirable, but still like himself, and not too tarty. This was the big chance. He couldn't scare George off; worse that that, though, they couldn't fall into bed together and then regret it. George was the centre of his world already. It would be better if he spent the rest of his life admiring from afar, than to destroy the friendship they had now.

 _Wheezes_ had been Teddy's place of escape as a child, and George had been his hero. He had never seen the one-eared man as a father figure. There were many men, several of them younger, who had filled that role – Arthur, Harry, Kingsley, Neville, and even to some extent Ron. But not George. George knew how to play and pretend, how to make Teddy feel like an equal, how to treat life like a game. It took him a few years to realise that George was one of the 'grown ups' at all.

All of the adults Teddy knew were worn down and submerged under their cares. George laughed, played, read books and treated the shop like a giant playroom which he could share. The best playing was the clever stuff in the laboratory. Teddy watched George creating and he learned how to do it himself. Then he practiced until he had made something George was genuinely impressed with. Nothing could have made Teddy more proud than the reaction he had got to his hairy Hobbit feet.

After one summer spent cloistered in the lab with George, Teddy had been sent back to a school which, all of a sudden, seemed to be packed with sexy boys. It was as though the place had been transformed into a brothel while he was away. His hormones surged through his body, changing its shape and twisting his view of the world until all he could see were legs, chests, eyes and smiles. Plenty of his friends were in the same state and they talked incessantly about sex. They talked about sex with girls, though, and Teddy realised that he hadn't noticed that half of the students were even still there.

That Christmas, Teddy had given George some clumsily translated collection of Greek myths which had caught his eye because of the sketches of statues. It was the first time he'd seen penises drawn in a book. It was only months later that Teddy had realised why he had found the volume interesting, and then he'd been mortified. George had given him _The Dubliners_ in return.

They had sat together on a sofa at the Burrow that Christmas day, as they often did. The jokes and references and observations had been much the same as on any other year. There had been other people there, too, but Teddy hadn't really noticed who they were. He had noticed George's breath and the ginger hairs near his wrists, the warmth of his skin and the freckles on his one earlobe. For the first time, he saw George through his new vision of the world and saw that he had legs, chest, eyes and a smile, too.

Every boy after that was a substitute – all too often a freckled, stocky substitute. Over the years his crush had become a deep, painful, secret love. He had kept it hidden away, smothered it easily because – after all – it was unrequitable. George was interested in women: everyone said what a shame it was that he hadn't met one he'd wanted to go out with yet. They tried to find him partners who were female and the same age as he was. Those were two things which Teddy could never be.

If Verity had persuaded George to go out to the Leaky Cauldron on Saturday, then Teddy would have gone there, too. He would rather have been with George than anywhere else. But she hadn't, so Teddy had chosen the Tool Shed instead. It was a bit close to where he worked so he had changed his features to avoid being recognised later. He liked to have the option of losing men sometimes – having them try to continue things in the shop would be inconvenient.

He hadn't been there long, checking out the patrons and relaxing into alcohol and loud music, when George had walked in. At first he'd been convinced that it must have been someone who just looked like George, but it was definitely him. Then Teddy's whirling brain decided that George didn't know where he was, that he thought it was a family pub, or a bar where he might chat up a woman. George had seen him then, seen him looking and Teddy had briefly forgotten that he was in disguise.

His head spun, his world was not what he had thought it was. George was straight and unavailable. Hope was useless. Yet there was George, with a man at least as young as Teddy. Jealousy sickened Teddy's guts at the same time as heated optimism flooded him and his mind skipped dances and adjusted pathways. He watched George dancing, then edging back into the dark recesses beyond the dance-floor.

He tried not to think about what they might be doing there. A new thought was rising to the surface of the maelstrom in his head: George had a secret. The man Teddy had fallen for was straightforward, noble, truthful and loyal to his family and friends. This man had sleazy encounters in clubs and then let his loved ones think that they knew him.

And now, at last, tonight Teddy was going on a date with George. He let himself be distracted by worrying what to wear because he still hadn't decided where they should go. His choice had to emphasise how grown up he was. He had to keep reminding himself that he had been an adult for some time, and all he was doing was trying to convince George of that fact.

The opera! Teddy had had a very sophisticated date at the opera once. Oh, but George Weasley listening to opera? He would hate it. The theatre then? But what was on and how could he get tickets at the last minute? There was a cinema near the college. He could ask some of his friends for recommendations. He could tell his fellow students that he was going on a date with a man – an older man – because he'd never hidden his sexuality from them. He just wasn't 'out' as a wizard around them! How complicated his life was.

The problem with sitting beside George and watching something, was that he wanted them to be able to talk. He wanted George to get to know him all over again, while he absorbed his new knowledge about George and integrated it with the man he'd always known. A meal, then. Not a coffee shop, or a sandwich bar, or a chip shop – a real restaurant. His student friends wouldn't be able to help him with that.

There was a place in Godric's Hollow which he'd heard about. Apparently that was where Neville had taken Draco Malfoy for their first date and they were still together. If it was impressive enough for a Malfoy, then it should be good enough for him and George. He Apparated down there in his lunch hour to book a table. Then he nipped home and cast a cleansing spell on his only suit.

*X*

Verity asked George why he wasn't concentrating.

"I'm going out tonight," he blurted.

She wanted details. He found himself stuck. He could tell her he was going on a date, or he could tell her he was going out somewhere with Teddy. He didn't know which part of the truth to go with.

"Do I need to shave?" he found himself asking. It had been one of the disconnected, recurring thoughts dancing through his mind all day. He didn't know why that had been the one which had chosen to rise to the surface at that exact moment, nor why it had escaped his mouth.

"Depends where you're going," she said. It was a sly reply, but a reasonable one, too.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It's meant to be somewhere romantic." So now she knew it was a date. He had to make sure she didn't know he'd be with Teddy, then.

She grinned. "About bloody time," she muttered. "Shave as smooth as you can then, Georgie-boy. You don't know where that face might end up. Go and do it now, I'll lock up."

"It's far too early to --" but then George checked the clock and realised that it wasn't. The day had managed to dribble away without him noticing.

He couldn't fasten the button on his suit trousers anymore, so he ended up in slacks and a sports jacket, hoping that was going to be good enough. He was still fiddling with his hair when the doorbell rang.

It took him a moment to recognise Teddy, and another to realise that he hadn't used any Metamorphmagus magic. He had been that tall for years, and his shoulders really were that broad. He filled his dark blue lounge suit perfectly and – what was even odder – he looked comfortable wearing it. He smiled and George noticed his smile.

George felt a little awkward when Teddy took his arm to side-along Apparate, but soon he was too absorbed in the sickening swirl of its movement. They ended up facing each other and Teddy smiled again. This time George managed to smile back. Then Teddy turned, purposefully, and walked towards a smart-looking restaurant. George recognised the name of it and realised that they were in Godric's Hollow.

Teddy's confidence was impressive. George followed him across the street. Teddy's back view was pretty impressive, too. He was distracted by the tightness of the cloth across Teddy's buttocks when Teddy abruptly stopped in front of him. George looked up and saw that Teddy held the partly opened door but he had stopped dead still.

His poise lost, Teddy shoved George backwards and then grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the big windows of the restaurant, down the side of the building. This was moving faster than George could cope with! He was shocked to feel arousal shoot through him, though, as he found himself pressed close to Teddy in a dark, empty alleyway.

"Harry's in there!" Teddy exclaimed.

His excitement was doused. George swore.

"With Auntie Luna! Bloody hell, you won't believe what she's wearing, either."

"Don't think I want to know," George replied. "We'd better go somewhere else."

Teddy's eyes were huge now, and they found his. George found that he really did want to think of somewhere else they could go, that he didn't want to use this set-back as an excuse to cancel the date altogether. Teddy had let go of his arm, but he'd been so caught by the boy's eyes that he hadn't noticed straight away. _He's not a boy anymore,_ George reminded himself.

They stood still for a moment. Then a burst of music travelled across the village square towards them. It had strings in it, and trumpets and no bass guitar.

"That sounds like your sort of shit," George said.

"You like it really," Teddy grumbled automatically.

George didn't bother to deny it. "Shall we go see what's going on?"

They followed the sound to the village hall (the Magical Community's village hall, that is. The Muggle one had a Karate class going on in it). It was a squat, red-brick building with tiny windows. They looked at the notice outside. _Tea Dance, two Galleons admission, price includes refreshments._

"I dare you," George said.

"You're on." Teddy walked straight to the high, wooden double doors.

George walked through behind him. It was a lot larger on the inside, of course. It was light, with one wall charmed to look like high windows looking out onto a summer lawn. Along this wall there were tables for two set out with tea pots, plates of tiny crustless sandwiches and tiered displays of sweet treats.

A band played on a low stage at the far end. The rest of the space was taken up by dancing couples – most of them elderly.

"Well, you wanted sophisticated!" George said.

He paid the wizened witch at the door. She eyed the two of them with interest. Several of the witches seated near the door looked over at them hopefully. George had spotted that in several cases, two witches were dancing together. That probably had more to do with the shortage of old wizards than sexual preference, but he was going to take it as a precedent anyway.

He bowed slightly to Teddy. "Shall we?" he asked.

"We can try," Teddy replied.

He put a hand on George's waist. George did the same. He didn't want it to look like either one of them was leading the other. They clasped their free hands together and moved towards the dance floor.

George watched Teddy's feet – though he was fairly sure that for all his knowledge of music, Teddy had no more of an idea of what he was doing than George did. He listened to the music and tried to fit his movements to it. After a little stumble they hit a rhythm and made it through to the end of that song without mishap.

The next song was slower, with louder stringed instruments and less brass ones. As George stopped having to think through each of his shuffling steps, he became more aware of the places where his body was touching Teddy's, which seemed to have settled itself in closer to his own. Teddy was looking out past George's shoulder, nodding a greeting to someone.

George started to wonder why they had run so fast from that restaurant. Harry wouldn't have been surprised to see the two of them out together. Of course, Harry knew Teddy was gay; perhaps he would have worked out that they were on a date. Teddy had been flustered, though. Was he ashamed to be seen with George? And what was Harry doing there with Luna of all people anyway?

George tightened his arm, bringing both of their hands closer to their chests. Their thighs brushed as they moved. Teddy squeezed his fingers, the ones on George's waist. George felt his own hand slip lower, over the cotton of Teddy's shirt, closer to the waistband on his trousers. There was flesh under those clothes, it was heating under his touch.

Teddy looked into his face. Their eyes were caught in each other's again. And then the music stopped.

A wizard climbed onto the low stage. George didn't let go or move back; nor did Teddy. The wizard announced that it was time for tea and a zephyr of chatter moved over the room, relaxing all the dancers' holds on each other. Slowly, George and Teddy stepped back from each other. Their clasped hands were the last to lose contact.

Tension clenched George's belly. It rushed a fear through him. Avoiding Teddy's face, he strode over to one of the little tea tables and sat down quickly.

"Shall I be mother?" Teddy asked, taking hold of the teapot. He was looking right at George and George felt his own hands fluttering uselessly.

He slouched back. Something was happening which he didn't intend thinking about. He looked out of the enchanted window. The sky was clear of aeroplanes, the horizon uncluttered with pylons. The scene which had been conjured could have been from Victorian times. He was aware of Teddy's movements and of the steam of the poured tea. He was aware of the soft, white bread on the sandwiches. He looked at the reflection of the cake stand in the glass. Petulantly he reached for it and snatched a jam tart. He shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

"Oy!" Teddy remonstrated. "You're supposed to start with savoury. What would your mother say?"

Molly was the last person George wanted to be thinking about at that moment. "I wanted to make sure you didn't get it," he mumbled through pastry crumbs.

"Charming!"

Teddy eyed George as he sipped his tea. George looked back because there was challenge in that gaze and that was something he _could_ handle from his apprentice.

In one swift movement, Teddy grabbed a cream scone and slapped it onto George's nose. It fell heavily into George's cup of tea. He sat upright, aware of the grease of cream and jam over his skin. Ignoring it, he swiped the milk jug and twitched his wrist – launching the contents over Teddy's shirt. Teddy squawked as the cold liquid hit his groin.

"I think we're going to get chucked out," Teddy whispered.

Indeed, there was some debate going on between the tea dancers, a couple of the wizards were moving in their direction.

"Fill your pockets, we'll Apparate to my place," George instructed.

Teddy nodded calmly, then darted forward, catching George unawares, to lick the cream off his nose. Teddy's tongue was warm and wet and for several seconds the rest of the world disappeared. Then a firm hand landed on George's shoulder. That was when he realised that he had been staring at Teddy with his mouth actually open, and that he had the strong beginnings of an erection. Shit! He was crap at Apparating with a hard-on.

Luckily, Teddy grabbed his arm and the village hall slid away into churning darkness. They landed, falling to their knees, in front on the unlit fireplace in George's sitting room, both paralysed by waves of laughter.

Teddy was the first to calm down. He sat back on his heels and wiped his eyes. "So much for grown up and sophisticated," he said with a sigh.

"So much for romantic." George lay on his back. "Knew I couldn't do romantic."

"I think we'd better avoid Godric's Hollow for a while," Teddy said.

"Good idea. Your shirt's all wet."

"Yeah. Some idiot splashed milk on it."

George paused, just for a heartbeat. He knew that once he had said it there would be no turning back. His next sentence was about to cause a life change. "You should take it off."

Teddy's smile froze. He stood, keeping his eyes on George's face. He paused, as though he, too, was aware of what was about to happen. Then he licked his lips and slid his jacket from his shoulders. "I should do that," he said in a voice which was deeper than George had ever heard him use before.

George lay on the floor and watched Teddy's every movement. Teddy moved slowly, his hips slinking deliberately. He hung his jacket carefully on the hat stand by George's front door. Then he slid his pale blue neck tie sideways, round his neck, across his throat, out of the way and undid the top button on his shirt. He pushed it smoothly through the hole and George found his eyes darting from Teddy's steady gaze to the bare skin which was briefly revealed.

Teddy ran his fingertips down his chest to the next button. He unfastened it. The silence lay thick in the room. George's mouth was dry. Teddy kept going. Dark brown hair curled in the triangle of chest where the shirt had fallen open. It seemed to take forever, and yet no time at all, for the shirt to be fully unbuttoned. Then Teddy spent a moment on the cuffs before slipping it off and dropping it to the floor.

George found that, unbidden, his arms were pushing him up to sitting. Teddy's naked chest looked very different to the way it had done the last time he had seen it. His ribs were covered now by a good layer of muscle and that brown hair was over most of it. Two perky, dark nipples sat out from rounded pectorals – one either side of the tie which had fallen back to the centre when the shirt collar had gone.

George made a strangled choking noise.

"Should I keep going?" Teddy asked.

George was incapable of a clever – or even coherent – reply to that. He just swallowed and nodded. Teddy rose onto his toes to sit on a high occasional table, pulled off a shoe and dropped it onto the carpet. He laid his ankle over his knee to take off his sock teasingly slowly. He lowered that leg and spread his knees wide, displaying his groin which was clearly bulging with arousal. George's own erection was now painfully full.

Teddy took off his other shoe and sock, breathing raggedly, his pupils dilated and fixed on George. "More?" he asked in a thick voice.

"More," George insisted. There was a whine in his voice and it sounded like begging. He leaned further forward, tucking his feet under him, and sat up onto his knees.

As George knelt before him, Teddy eased open the clasp of his belt. He pulled it through the belt lips, the snick-snick slapping resounding through the cottage. George inched forwards. Teddy unclipped his trouser-fastening, then carefully eased down his zip. It felt to George as slowly as snow-melt. His underpants were crisp, white cotton, like his shirt. Milk had stained and soaked the shirt; pre-come soiled his underwear. The material was strained by the erection it barely contained. Lifting one buttock at a time, Teddy pushed he waistband of his trousers down to his thighs. George sprang forward.

Still on his knees, he got himself between Teddy's legs. The height of the table meant that George's face was level with Teddy's crotch. He placed his hands on the tops of Teddy's naked thighs. They were pale, covered in hair which was shorter and lighter-coloured than on his chest. George tipped his face forwards and inhaled; Teddy smelled of sex and man. Somewhere above him, Teddy gasped. George ran his nose along the clothed shaft, from base to tip and then down again. He whimpered and pressed his flattened tongue onto it. Teddy groaned hungrily.

"Yes?" George asked. He was looking into Teddy's lap as he asked it, but he lifted his eyes to the boy's face for the answer. _Not a boy anymore_ he reminded himself, _clearly not a child at all._

"Oh, Merlin, yes! George. Please!" Teddy's arms trembled.

George stroked one hand up Teddy's thigh until it covered his underwear. He ran a firm thumb over the damp fabric before reaching his hand inside the waistband. Teddy's cock was hard and hot and it filled George's grip. George pulled it free and licked the tip. Salty, sweet and clean: healthy and young. Teddy moaned. George kissed the smooth, purple tip. He looked up to find Teddy watching him with heavy lids. He opened his mouth wide and puffed breath onto Teddy's cock. Teddy squirmed.

"Please?" he begged George.

George lowered his mouth onto Teddy's cock before bringing his lips tight onto it. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks. Teddy groaned. He put one hand onto George's head and ran it through his hair. George stroked his hand up Teddy's shaft, and his mouth down it until they met. His tongue moved against Teddy's flesh as his head bobbed, his hand pumped and he sucked as hard as he could. With Teddy's help, his other hand tugged down Teddy's underpants. They joined his trousers which still hung at his thighs. When he had enough room, he played with Teddy's balls - stroking and rolling and squeezing them. His middle finger reached back to stroke Teddy's perineum.

A change in the pitch of his moans told him that Teddy was close to orgasm; George pulled back. Teddy flopped backwards onto the table.

"Bed," George grunted.

"No! Here! Now!" Teddy insisted. He kicked off his pants and trousers.

George stood up and leaned over. He grabbed hold of Teddy's tie near the knot and pulled it, raising Teddy towards him. His other hand cupped Teddy's head and he brought their mouths together in a kiss. Teddy licked at his lips and both mouths opened. They snogged deep and sloppy, their tongues playing over each other. George was aware all the time, though, of Teddy's wet cock pressing into his belly, and of his own tightly constricted in his clothes.

He let go of the tie and scrabbled at his belt with one hand. Realising what was happening, Teddy sat upright. He pushed off George's jacket, then unfastened his shirt buttons, with a great deal more haste than he had his own. No longer holding Teddy upright, George was able to use both hands to remove his own trousers. All the while, their mouths were in messy contact. Teddy ran his hands feverishly over George's chest, back and bare buttocks when they were uncovered.

Teddy left on George's tie, just as he had done with his own. When they were both otherwise naked – still kissing and caressing each other – Teddy untied George's tie. He ran it over George's neck and then down his arm. Finally, he broke the kiss, George gasping for air. He wondered whether his own lips were as red and swollen as Teddy's. Teddy looked into his eyes and George saw swirling dark shapes dancing on Teddy's irises. Teddy stroked George's sweaty hair from his forehead and his own hair reddened. Then he stretched George's tie between his fists and brought it swiftly to George's left wrist.

He wrapped it round. "Yeah?" he asked in a cracked voice.

Nodding, George laid his right wrist over the left. Teddy's face split into a grin and he tied the two together. He pulled George towards him, pulling their hot skin against each other. They kissed again briefly, and then Teddy lowered his head to lick at George's nipples. George moaned and threw his head back. Teddy slid forwards on the table, until his feet were on the floor. With one hand he held George's conjoined hands up, while the other found his cock. George's hips jerked forwards at the contact. Teddy stroked him, rubbing the pre-come down to coat his shaft.

Teddy stood. He took his own cock into the grasp that held George's and stroked them together. As he did so, he moved them round, dancing shuffling steps. He kissed George's cheek lightly, then turned him and bent him over the table.

George's face pressed against the polished wood. He felt Teddy's hot, wet tongue working its way down his spine, his hands skimming over his side, stroking up his arms. Then the hot breath was at the bottom of George's back and he realised what was about to happen. Teddy prised his buttocks apart and his face went between them. Then his anus twitched as it was rimmed by Teddy's skilled tongue. It was too skilled, too practiced, but George didn't want to think about that. He only wanted to feel the moist caress which started on his pucker and worked its way in, opening George up, drawing waves of pleasure up his body.

Then slicked fingers were inside him, working him open, stroking his inside walls. Teddy murmured appreciatively, and George felt his own moans shaking through him.

"I love you, George," Teddy whispered, as he filled him.

He pushed in gently a couple of times, then George shifted his hips to meet the thrusts and all gentleness was forgotten. Teddy slammed into him in a frenzy. George's prostate was pounded haphazardly as Teddy's hand worked his shaft. His climax built up in red wave and then came crashing out of him. Teddy's fingers gripped his hip, the nails digging into his skin. Then he too shouted out as he came. Teddy collapsed onto George's back.

After a few minutes, George became aware of the weight on his back and the stretch of his arms. The table was hard against his chest and belly, making it difficult to breath. The sweat on his calves cooled. Teddy kissed his shoulder and moved off. He went away into the room. George struggled off the table and sank onto the floor. Teddy was at the hatstand, getting his suit jacket off the peg. He was going already?

No, he was coming back. He retrieved his wand from the sleeve of the jacket and waved it in an exhausted way over George's bound wrists. The tie unwrapped itself. There were red ridges left running round them both. George stared at them.

"Want me to heal them?" Teddy panted, slumping to the floor to sit beside George.

"Not yet," said George, and lifted his hands to his face to sniff them. He leant sideways and sniffed Teddy's hands, too. Teddy watched him with a little smile.

"Hungry?" Teddy asked.

"Yeah. I thought you were taking me out to dinner."

"I failed. But I have got these." Teddy pulled only slightly squashed cucumber sandwiches from one jacket pocket and crumbling cake slices from the other. "There's no jam tarts, I'm afraid. Some greedy bastard ate the only one."

"You haven't got any of the tea in there to wash it down with have you?" George asked, stuffing four delicate sandwiches into his mouth at once.

"To be honest, that stuff was swill."

"The whole place was a dump. I'm glad we won't be allowed back."

Teddy nodded. "The dancing was good, though."

"Yeah. The dancing was really good," George agreed. He picked up a french fancy and peeled off the fondant icing. "We should do more dancing."

Teddy nodded. "In a minute," he said. "Maybe a nap first?"

"Now are we allowed to get into bed?" George asked. "Mr Impatient."

Teddy kissed George on his sweaty, freckled nose. "Hardly impatient," he said. "I've been waiting for this for years."

 

THE END


End file.
